


Diamonds and Guns

by EpsilonBeta



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 08:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2342171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EpsilonBeta/pseuds/EpsilonBeta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After killing the leader of the Tenth Street Reds, pre-Alliance Petula Shepard gets caught up between Zaeed's desire for revenge, the Alliance officer holding the threat of Alliance enlistment over her head for information, and the gang that want her dead.</p><p>No beta, all mistakes are my own. Most characters belong to Bioware, Colin Shepard belongs to 'Troubleshootingspacekangaroo' over at Tumblr and Petula is my own along with a few minor OCs here and there. Thanks to all the people who've had a hand in creating this over the time it's been a WIP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vagabonds

A young girl stepped out of the main entrance to London's Docklands Spaceport, greeted only by the brisk autumn breeze. The clouds overhead gathered in a warning of rain, but seemed to hold out for now. Regardless, she pulled her hoodie over her head and hitched her backpack across her shoulder before moving out into the busy street. A few minutes later and she’d reached the new DLR station, stopping at a map on the wall to figure out her route. Tourists and commuters alike bustled around her like ants at a picnic, occasionally jostling her in their attempts to pass through the crowded hall. 

She’d been run out of Vancouver by the Tenth Street Reds after scamming them out of a considerable amount of credits and killing their leader. It’d be a matter of hours before a new leader sprung up in his place and, well, London had seemed as good a place as any to run to. She had no idea where she was going, really. Figured she’d probably find a youth hostel somewhere and try to pick up a job or two, legit or not, to help her gather enough funds and friends to find somewhere a bit more stable.

Picking a station off the map, she started to make her way through the crowds, stepping through the barrier and scanning her omni-tool as she went, then tapping at it to accept the agreement that credits would be deducted from her account when she reached her destination. She had credits to burn, thanks to the Reds, so it was nice to be able to get public transport without worrying about being able to get out legally at the other end. 

She almost smiled at the memory of telling leader of the Reds that he could stick his “membership benefits” where the sun didn’t shine, the look on his face as he stepped towards her with murder in his eyes, the feel of her dagger slipping neatly into the delicate flesh of his throat and the thud of his body hitting the floor. She’d watched his blood pool on the floor, lit by the orange glow from her omni-tool as she siphoned credits from his account into hers. Some people deserve to die, she reminded herself. The sadistic bastard did much worse to countless people over the years, and she’d given him a clean, quick end. Almost a public service, really.

Eventually she found herself a room in a hostel opposite St. Paul’s Cathedral. She dumped her backpack, and after a shower and change of clothes, felt mostly normal. She decided to venture out into the city and find a nice quiet bar to grab a drink in, so she rummaged around in her belongings for the small bag of cosmetics she was certain she’d packed. After a liberal application of make-up and a little wax run through her black pixie cut, she felt she’d pass comfortably for 18 and made her way out into the night.

***

The scummy little dive a few streets away was called Effin's. It had the air of an Irish-themed pub but had clearly not been in contact with an actual Irish person at any time in its existence, from the Guinness promotional materials and shamrocks emblazoned all over the place. She sidled up to the bar and ordered a lager. The barmaid didn't ask for ID, just nodded and poured her pint with a disinterested look on her face. She accepted the payment and moved on down to the seemingly regular patron at the other end of the bar.

She’d made her way through most of her pint and was thinking of how on earth she was to go about finding a legit job here when she noticed a man walking over to her. In an Alliance uniform. Shit, she thought. This would not end well.

She moved to stand up and exit the bar as casually as she could, her handbag thrown over her shoulder nonchalantly as she finished the drink in one gulp. As she turned to make her way towards the entrance, the Alliance officer made a beeline for her. She deliberately avoided his gaze, attempting to get to the exit relatively unnoticed, only to find his hand firmly wrapped around her wrist as she moved past. The grip on her wrist spun her to face him. She looked up at the man, indignity plastered across her features at being forced to stop. She blinked slowly at him, trying to keep a hold on her biotics because oh god damn if he saw them she’d be shipped straight off to the nearest Alliance facility and that wasn’t something she was interested in right now. Two years until she could enlist, stuck in some godforsaken ‘foster home’ because she couldn’t be trusted with her own powers. No, thanks.

He seemed to be in his mid-thirties, maybe a little older, the faintest hint of crow’s feet around his icy blue eyes, and a fair smattering of grey in his dark hair. He was attractive, even with the long scar cutting from just below one eye, right through his upper lip. She saw the way he was examining her and vaguely wondered if she kissed him, whether she’d distract him enough to loosen his grip and be able to get away. Probably not, she decided.

“You old enough to be in here, girl?” He asked, the hint of a smile appearing on his face, and twisting that scar in a way she found inexplicably sexy.

“Not really an issue, is it? Since I’m just leaving.” She replied.

He let go of her wrist with an amused chuckle and followed when she turned on her heel and made her way to the exit. She’d gotten outside and halfway up the street when he spoke again. “What’s your name?”

“None of your business.”

“Unusual. Is it a family name?”

“A comedian as well as a creep, I see.”

“My name’s Steven. Captain Steven Hackett, Alliance Navy.”

“I gathered the latter. But why are you so interested in me? Got a thing for young girls, Captain? Because I’ll warn you, I don’t offer those kinds of services,” She stopped dead and spun around to face him. “and I’ll rip you a new asshole figuratively as well as literally if you try anything.” Adrenaline made her biotics flare blue around her wrists. God damned temper, god damned big mouth. Shit, shit, shit.

Hackett looked down at the glow that was spreading to her hands. Their eyes met for a brief second before she bolted down the street. He chuckled softly as he chased after her. He wasn’t as fast as her, but his legs were longer, and his fitness levels were high enough that his endurance was likely better. He followed her as she turned into an alleyway, which, as luck would have it, was a dead end. She turned back around after she spotted the barbed wire on top of the fence blocking her exit, looking like a cornered animal, blue eyes blazing to match the biotic glow that was rapidly spreading across her body.

“Hey,” He murmured. “Easy there, sweetheart. It’s alright. Your secret is safe with me.”

"Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me, Hackett. I know what you Alliance types do to biotics, and I’m not letting you lock me up for two years until you can make me fight for you. Not a fucking chance."

"I don’t want that, either. Look, if you help me out here I can pretend I didn’t see you, but if you hurt me it’ll unleash a shitstorm for you, and far too much paperwork for me.”

She sighed heavily as she leaned back against the wall, out of options for now. “What do you want? I’ve been in London less than 24 hours and I’m already in the shit. Fuck.”

“First, I’d like you to tell me your name.”

“Shepard. Petula Shepard. Friends call me Tula.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Hackett commented, almost sounding surprised. “Suits you.”

“Just fucking spare me the bullshit.” Tula retorted. “What else?”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep an eye out for a man I’m looking for. You seem like his type.”

“Oh, gross.”

“Not like that.” He clarified, handing her a photo. “This man’s a bounty hunter by the name of Zaeed Massani. Tends to use street kids and the like as his eyes and ears. The photo’s a couple of years old so he may look a little different.”

She examined the photo for a moment. Massani, it appeared, was in his early twenties, with a jawline that could cut glass, russet hair and mismatched eyes, one a deep emerald green, the other a pale silver that almost sparkled in the photo. The right side of his face had a massive scar that spoke of serious re-constructive surgery. Still, he was handsome in a rugged sort of way and she was curious how he’d have looked before the scar. The image was clearly taken for a military ID, from the uniform and his pose. She hesitated before tucking the photo into a pocket and responding. “What makes you think I’m a street kid?”

“Takes one to know one.”

“So you’re cryptic, too? Going for all the C-words?”

“Not all of them.” Hackett smiled. Damn him.

“Okay. Give me your number or whatever and I’ll contact you if he contacts me. And you’ll leave me alone otherwise?”

“That’s the deal.” He nodded.

“You’re on.”


	2. Big Exit

Walking around the various museums London had to offer had made for an exhausting but fun day. Immersing herself in as much culture as possible was making up for being incredibly homesick and lonely in a city where Shepard knew almost no-one.

She was wandering out of the British Museum and about to head home when a familiar face caught her eye. She’d recognise that scar anywhere, now. Zaeed Massani was leaning against a street lamp, clearly waiting for someone. Keeping her head down, she tried to move around the edges of the people gathered outside and blend in as much as possible as she walked away. If he didn’t see her, if she didn’t get involved with him, Hackett couldn’t do anything, right? She broke off from the group of people she was walking behind and turned left down Great Russell St.

Her heart was in her throat when she made her way through Bloomsbury Square Gardens, legs carrying her at a dead power-walk, avoiding running for fear of looking too suspicious. However, in the few short days she’d been in London she’d learned that people power-walked everywhere, as if they were perpetually late for a meeting. Unfortunately, as absorbed with getting the hell out of dodge as her mind was, she wasn’t paying enough attention to where she was going. She almost walked dead into the last person she wanted to see right then.

Finch. The rat-faced little shit stood in front of her, surrounded by two of the biggest bastards she’d ever had the misfortune to be on the wrong side of. She recognised them as two of the former Tenth Street Reds leader’s bodyguards. Fuck. 

She was wondering what exactly to do when Finch piped up, “You can’t have thought you’d get away with killing the boss, Shepard.”

"Well it looks like I have so far." Tula replied, deliberately sounding as disdainful as she felt, hoping that if she angered them enough they’d make a mistake she could use to her advantage.

"Not for much longer. The new boss wants your head on a plate, and, well, I’m inclined to give it to him." Finch smirked, the men beside him moving in towards her..

"You’ll have to take it first, Finchy. You know what I’m capable of. You don’t want to fuck with a human biotic." 

"Your freak tricks won’t help you when there’s three of us against one of you, Shepard." He laughed.

"Really? We’ll have to see about that." With that said, Shepard threw up a barrier and then launched a biotic throw at Finch while his men were still drawing their pistols. Finch was tossed several meters ahead like a ragdoll. She was impressed with her own skill for a split second, before she turned her attention back to the other two. They had their pistols out now, one taking a shot at her, which deflected off her barrier, and the other was about to pull his trigger when she heard two gunshots ring through the air, one through the first guy’s head and the other through the second’s neck.

"Fuck." She said aloud, blinking slightly in shock when they both crumpled to the ground almost simultaneously. 

Shepard looked back to where she’d thrown Finch to find him being picked up off the floor by no other than Zaeed Massani. He dragged the smaller guy over by the collar on his shirt, greeting Shepard with a grin. “This bastard giving you trouble?”

"You could say that." She replied as steadily as she could manage.

"Zaeed Massani, bounty hunter and general badass, at your service. but then you already know that, don’t you?"

"Psychic?" Shepard asked, trying to play down her prior knowledge of the very attractive man with the very big gun.

"Observant. What do you want doing with this one, then?" He responded, waving Finch around if he weren’t much more than a puppy he’d picked up by the scruff of the neck.

Shepard thought for a second, before deciding to let Finch go back to the Reds with a warning. “Let him go,” She said to Zaeed, turning back to Finch as he landed on the ground with a dull thud. “But first, Finch, I’m going to say this once and very clearly. If the Reds send anyone else after me, I’m going to kill them, and then I’m going to find you and kill them too, okay?”

"But…" Finch began, only to find Massani’s pistol pressed firmly against his skull in the same heartbeat. 

"No buts. You do as the lady says." He added.

Finch nodded carefully, before scrambling to his feet and scurrying off into the night. 

Zaeed turned to look at Shepard as he holstered his weapon. “So, Tula Shepard. I guess we better get you home before anyone finds these.” He nudged the corpse at his feet with the toe of his boot. “Need a lift?”

"I’m only a short walk away." She protested, even as Zaeed placed a hand gently under her elbow to guide her away. 

"Then I’ll walk you. London’s not a very safe city for a girl alone -"

"Oh please spare me the concerned misogynist spiel, Mr. Massani." She interjected.

”- and I think you owe me an explanation for why I just killed two men and let a witness run off into the night.” He continued.

"I don’t think that’s any of your business."

"I happen to disagree. And I’m also curious exactly what Steven Hackett had to say to you, a very talented young biotic, about me, a very talented mercenary. So, I’ll walk you home, or I can drive. Your choice."

"Fine, you can drive. I’m only at St. Paul’s, though."

"Hostel?"

"Yeah, I only got into London a few days ago." She shrugged.

"I can help you find somewhere more permanent, if you need it. Since you seem to be on the run, I’m guessing you don’t have much by way of ID that won’t throw up a bunch of red flags. I’ve got connections." He said, as they walked up to his skycar. 

He unlocked it and the doors opened automatically. Shepard folded herself into the passenger side and leaned her head back against the seat. She was exhausted. 

Zaeed climbed into the drivers seat and started the engine, looking over at her and seeming to register the tiredness on her face before speaking. “St. Paul’s, eh?”


	3. The Guns Of Brixton

**BANG. BANG. BANG.  
  
** Shepard woke with a start, heart pounding, as her eyes searched the room. Someone was hammering at the door. The previous evening’s events flooded her mind, Finch running off into the night and Zaeed driving her home.   
  
 **BANG. BANG. BANG.  
  
** She checked her omni-tool for the time. Squinting against the glare of the light, she eventually made sense of the tiny 06:00 in the top corner of the screen. Rolling out of bed, she pulled an oversized shirt on to cover her chest and pulled underwear on before rummaging through her bag to find the pistol she’d smuggled at the bottom of it.  
  
 **BANG. BANG.**   **BANG.**  
  
She loaded a clip into the handgun and made her way to the door. She looked through the peephole in her door and saw a very pissed-off looking Zaeed Massani on the other side. She opened the door and carefully stepped back, keeping her gun trained on the man that stepped through it.  
  
He drank in the sight of her, hair messed up with sleep and long, slender legs exposed to the upper thigh. He raised his hands in surrender, eyebrows raised in a bemused expression.

“Hello, love.”  
  
“I’m not your ‘love’, Massani. The fuck do you want?”  
  
“Got a proposition for you.”

"I’m not interested. Get out.”  
  
“Not until you hear what I’ve got to offer.”  
  
“Why is it that I find it very hard to believe I’d be interested in anything you’d have to offer?” She sighed. “Talk. Quickly.”

He chuckled and walked over to lean against the fireplace as he spoke. “Feisty little thing. I need someone to infiltrate the Suns. Need someone close to Vido Santiago. He’s got a thing for little brunettes, y’see, orphans, street girls,” The distaste in Massani’s voice was tangible. “And I want the bastard dead.”

“Why me?” Tula lowered her weapon. “What makes you think I’d be willing to put my ass on the line for you?”  
  
“A fuckload of credits, for one. Two? You’re strong enough to make it out of that intact. Not many girls who catch Santiago’s eye would be. Three? You’re a very fucking  _valuable asset_  what with those Asari tricks you can pull and that makes you the most dangerous bait I can conjure up. Four? He’s dealing with the Reds, and I know how much you love pissing them off. This might be a chance to take the lot of them down in one fell swoop. He’s their biggest financial backer.”

“Fuck. Alright. How many credits are we talking about?” She asked, her head cocked.  
  
“The Alliance bounty on Santiago’s well into six figures. 70/30 split, in your favour. If we can take him out.”  
  
“Why the fuck would you do that, Massani? That’s not a very fair deal to you, by my reckoning.”  
  
“It’s very fucking personal, Shepard.” He muttered, indicating the scarred side of his face.

"Bastard. Okay, where do we start?”  
  
“Need to get you in with the right crowd first. I’ve already got someone on the inside, shouldn’t be too difficult from there.”  
  
“Right, who’s your guy, then?”  
  
“Put the gun down, little one, and we’ll talk.”  
  
Tula sighed and flicked her pistol’s safety back on, before stashing it back in its hiding place. She grabbed a pair of jeans and began pulling them on. “Talk, then.”  
  
“As I said, I’ve got someone on the inside. He’s a tech expert, goes by the name ‘Crash’,” Zaeed rolled his eyes as he made air-quotes. “He’s a good kid though, mostly, and some of the older members of the Suns are still willing to help. I’m owed a lot of fucking favours.”  
  
“So how the fuck am I supposed to get into the Blue Suns, Massani?”  
  
“You’ll hang around with Crash for a while. Won’t take long for someone with your skills to get noticed, I reckon.”  
  
“Thanks, I guess.” She sighed, running her hand through her hair.  
  
“Hey, I’m never going to miss an opportunity to compliment a pretty girl with a fondness for blowing things up. Yep, I’ve heard  _a lot_  about you.” Massani chuckled, a smirk appearing and twisting his scars just so.  
 _  
Handsome bastard,_  Tula thought.


	4. Beer & A Burger

Shepard slid into the edge of a booth, facing a blonde man in his early twenties. She eyed him carefully before speaking. “Crash, I presume?”  
  
"That’s me," Crash replied, his lopsided smirk seeming to take up half of his boyish face. "We’re waiting on someone else."  
  
"Massani didn’t tell me there’d be anyone else here. Just you." She frowned.  
  
"Yeah, apparently a friend of mine’s been looking for you."  
  
She was over the table and crushing the boy’s windpipe in the blink of an eye. “Who’s the friend?”  
  
Crash tried to speak, but could barely gasp for air, clutching at the hand around his neck. “Behind you.” He croaked, when she loosened her grip slightly. She dropped the boy as swiftly as she'd grabbed him, and he fell back against the chair, dragging down huge lungfuls of air has he massaged his throat.  
  
As Shepard moved out of the booth, the weight of a familiar hand came to rest on her shoulder. Instinctively, she grabbed it, and using her opposite arm to wrap around it, trapped her opponent in an elbow lock. She kicked the man’s leg out from under him, and had him on the floor in a few  
short seconds.  
  
"Colin," She grinned. "Wasn’t expecting to see you here."  
  
He ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “Things back home were getting... interesting.”  
  
“The Reds?”  
  
“One and the same. I pissed a few too many people off, had to get out of dodge.”  
  
“Don't tell me that the Reds' little sweetheart finally stopped towing the line?” Shepard replied, deadpan.  
  
“Are you gonna help me up off this godforsaken floor or not?”  
  
“Not.”  
  
Colin laughed as he pulled himself upright. “Good to see you too, Tulip.”  
  
“Missed you, you asshole.” She replied, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into his embrace briefly before pushing him away and throwing herself back into the booth. “So, how's little Finchy and the gang?”  
  
Colin groaned as he slid in next to her, slumping down into the seat. “Don't get me started. Thanks for that, by the way.”  
  
“Come on, you're the one who taught me sharing is caring, after all.” She smirked.  
  
“This is not what I meant and you know it.”  
  
“I can't help but wonder what he did mean then.” Crash interrupted, a quizzical look on his face.  
  
“Wouldn't you love to know.” She smiled mischievously.  
  
Colin was as close to blushing as she'd ever seen him, somewhere between painfully embarrassed and highly amused. “Food. I meant food.”  
  
“But what about that one time when...? Oh, never mind.” She teased.  
  
“Not going into that one, Petula.”  
  
“Did you hear that, Crash? He only uses my full name when I'm getting to him.”  
  
“How the hell do you two know each other, anyway?” Crash asked.  
  
“We had the same foster home.” Colin replied, "'s why people call both of us Shepard. Although it stuck better with her."  
  
The female Shepard's face turned serious. “It's my fault Colin got caught up with the Reds in the first place.”  
  
“Is not.” Colin argued, squeezing her leg under the table lightly.  
  
She sighed dramatically. It was evident in her posture and Colin's concerned smile that they'd had this conversation a few times before. “Why the fuck are we here, anyway?”  
  
“Massani said you wanted into The Suns.” Crash replied.  
  
“And I'm not letting you get into that shit alone.” Colin added.  
  
Tula sighed heavily and shook her head. “And I am so totally fucked.”


	5. Every Thug Needs A Lady

Playing courier for some of Crash's friends affiliated with the Blue Suns had proved lucrative, if slightly more dangerous. She now had a stable enough income to get herself situated in a small apartment of her own with some of Zaeed's help, and made friends with the rest of Crash's little band of miscreants, all of whom seemed fairly pleasant. She learned over her time with them that Crash was a pretty adept tech geek, whose real name was James, and had picked the moniker up from a late 20th-century film about hacking. The film was terrible.

His girlfriend, Andrea, was a strikingly beautiful woman who also happened to be an incredibly powerful biotic. The jet black dreadlocks that fell down to her rear did a great job of hiding her L2  
implant. She was lucky enough to just get migraines and the occasional nosebleed from overuse of her powers. As she told it, many of the biotics of her generation who had been detected hadn't fared so well at BAaT. The horror stories she told about one particular instructor, a Turian named Vyrnnus, made Tula very glad to have avoided being picked up.

She was heading home after a particularly long day working with the two of them when she found Zaeed waiting outside her apartment. She hadn't heard from him in weeks, but just assumed he'd been off-planet on a bounty.

“What do you want?” She asked, too tired to deal with small talk.

“Do I need a reason to check in on you?”

“You've got an omni-tool. Try using it for once.” She snapped, pushing past him and making her way into the building. Unsurprisingly, he followed. “I might have had company.”

“Have company often, little one?”

“Not that it's any of your business, no.”

“Well then, what's the problem?”

“You want me to infiltrate the Suns. Did you not consider they might have someone watching me?”

Zaeed shrugged. “Vido's a sly bastard, but he's not that clever. Besides, too much fucking ego for his own good.”

Eventually Shepard reached her door, scanning her omni-tool across it and waiting for the access codes to register. “Says you, Mr. 'this one time my partner shot half my face off'.”

"How the hell did you find out about that?" Zaeed walked into the apartment after her as soon as the doors opened.

“Come the fuck in, I guess.” She said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Don't mind if I do.” He quipped.

“Also Steven Hackett gave me the full low-down on you. Kicked out of the Alliance for 'assaulting a superior asshole' was it? Well played. Now, what the fuck do you really want? It's not like you to just pop in for a casual chat, so explain, now, before I throw you out with my biotics.”

"You're good, but not that good... Yet."

“Fuck you, Massani.” She muttered as she wandered to the kitchen, dropping her bags on the counter and unpacking her shopping.

“Maybe later, eh?” He smirked.

“Fuck off, then.”

“Before or after you fuck me?”

Shepard growled with frustration. “I mean it, Zaeed. If you don't actually want anything, just get the fuck out. I am not in the mood for a social visit, much less for your wind-up merchant bullshit.”

“Fine, if you're gonna have a complete sense of humour failure,” Zaeed unclipped a pistol from his holster and slid it across the counter to her. It was a brand new Predator. He reached into a pocket and withdrew a biotic amp, then slid that across to her too. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Okay now I'm really suspicious. You don't strike me as the generous type, no offence intended.”

“Easy, You're no fucking use to me dead. Now, where's my 'thank you'?” He leaned across the counter and made a kissing face at her.

“Outside, mate.” Tula laughed. She picked up the amp and waved it at him. “You do realize I can't use this, right? I haven't got a port.”

“That;'s actually the other part of my present. I've got a friend in the Alliance that's going to pull some strings and get you in and fitted with one of the new L3s.”

“Please tell me it isn't Hackett.”

“It isn't Hackett.”

“You're lying, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“Bastard.”


End file.
